


Single Origin

by enderrr



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, F/F, F/M, Fantasizing, M/M, Masturbation, Monsters, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Weird Plot Shit, wow I can't believe that's a real tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-20 13:53:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enderrr/pseuds/enderrr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hints of his life he did mention were a tease, and you wanted more. You wanted him to trust you, to be able to turn to you, to rely on you. It had taken a little time, but you'd realized you wanted those things from him because that's what you wanted him to be for you. And that had shaken you a little, until you'd found your feet and accepted it. It hurt, sure, to know you could never really open to him the way you wanted to. So you tried not to think about it, and instead enjoyed your friendship for what it was. You were lucky in that you were able to enjoy someone's company who didn't constantly remind you of the nightmare you'd lived through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> Whoa hey there first fic. Here's the first part of what started as a silly idea and since then has turned into a rather immense and ridiculous plot driven storyline. I hope you keep reading! You can catch me on tumblr: enderrr.tumblr.com <3
> 
> -Ender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It isn't Just Coffee, John, it is an entire culture based heavily on tradition which we have respected and elevated to culinary science," Kanaya pointedly said, raising an elegant eyebrow at you for even having tried it in the first place. Of course, you agreed with her. Probably on a slightly less maniacal level, but the cafe had become important to you in very big ways. It wasn't just coffee. It was a warm, welcoming place, where people relied on you to make their day better - even for just a small moment of time. It might have seemed small, but to you, it was important. Comedy was much the same - people came to you specifically to forget whatever had made them upset during their day and have a laugh. You had a responsibility. Despite yourself, you kind of liked that.

Another six AM.

"Good morning, little cafe," you whispered - you always did - running a hand along the counter as you made your way into the back room. You generally opened the cafe with the lights still off, using the natural light that streamed through the windows even so early in the morning to guide you. It felt more peaceful this way, like you had that time to your own and no one could interrupt you. Your own little world, setting things in order, measuring and weighing each appropriate dose of whole beans for the larger brewers, running espresso through the machine to clear away any remaining taste from last night's cleaning. It was structured, and single minded, and very calming. Your commute was fairly long - 30 minutes to Santa Monica from Echo Park if there wasn't any traffic, which there usually was (even this early, which was an absolute crime). It gave you too much time in your trundling sack of metal you desperately still called a car with only the memories of your dreams for company. Stepping into the cafe was almost like entering a different world. You smiled a little, dosing an exact gram weight of espresso into your portafilter, pulling a shot that met the parameters set by your roaster on only your second try. Getting caught up in diagnosing a bad shot, dialing in your grinder to make sure everything tasted the way it should kept your mind far off anything else. You knew your day would get easier, but morning were always hard. Nodding once, satisfied with the flavors you'd extracted, you finished your shot and turned to flick the lights on.

"Good morning, John," said the taller figure who'd somehow slipped behind you without your notice. You stifled a small, indignant yelp. Kanaya did tend to come in early. It wasn't her fault she favored soft-soled shoes that barely even made a brushing noise against the non-slip floor. Though why you hadn't heard the telltale click of her key in the lock, you couldn't say. Worrisome. Swallowing the yelp, you smiled weakly at her. Before you could offer your own greeting and turn the lights on as intended, Kanaya flicked them into life with a fluid gesture. Even with only three years as a human, she'd adapted to the body with ease. It wasn't really fair to the other trolls, especially those who'd revelled in their troll-ish identity. You only pitied them a little - Jade had done the best she could to keep everyone alive, and that was what really mattered. That you were all safe now. Your smile waned a little as Kanaya brushed past you, peering judgementally at the slight mess you'd made of the espresso machine.

"I do hope you keep a tighter grip on things during service, John," Kanaya always had this tick of saying your name frequently to emphasize a point. Even just speaking, you could still hear the capitalization to her words. It was a little spooky. "The cleanliness of your workspace is a direct reflection of the quality of the drinks you serve."

"Haha, calm down, Kanaya… it's just coffee!" You quipped with a wide grin, knowing that would needle her. Ducking a little, you made your way out from behind the bar to unlock the door.

"It isn't Just Coffee, John, it is an entire culture based heavily on tradition which we have respected and elevated to culinary science," Kanaya pointedly said, raising an elegant eyebrow at you for even having tried it in the first place. Of course, you agreed with her. Probably on a slightly less maniacal level, but the cafe had become important to you in very big ways. It wasn't just coffee. It was a warm, welcoming place, where people relied on you to make their day better - even for just a small moment of time. It might have seemed small, but to you, it was important. Comedy was much the same - people came to you specifically to forget whatever had made them upset during their day and have a laugh. You had a responsibility. Despite yourself, you kind of liked that.

It had started as a part time job, but then rent had gone up, and with Jade still in school full time there wasn't a whole lot she could do to contribute to the increased amount. She had taken much the same route the majority of his friends had. After the reset, almost all of them had delved into as many activities as they possibly could, consuming their time and allowing little room to think or daydream. For Jade, it was veterinary school, an unpaid internship as well as volunteering at the shelter on weekends. You weren't even sure she had time to sleep, some days. You supposed you understood why that was, too. Without Jade, you weren't sure if anyone you held dear would be alive. Or if the world she had created was as real as if felt. Even still, you couldn't help wondering sometimes about the countless other possible scenarios - how many Johns and Jades and Karkats in other universes hadn't made it. How they had died. How they hadn't. …Yeah, it was easier to think about coffee. You'd created your own little world in there, and it was real enough. Safe.

Kanaya had the job first, and quickly gained the trust and respect of the shop's owner. As a favor, she'd gotten you in despite your lack of experience. You supposed 'likeable' was a good quality of yours, and you'd quickly become an integral part of the cafe's family. As people quit or moved, your friends slowly started filing into their places - it was a little funny how far a recommendation from you went towards securing their employment. Now, with Kanaya officially managing the team, the parallels between your new life and your old session were almost hilarious. Ah, but you were still pointedly not thinking about that. What was important was that you were all together, and together you at least felt like you could keep a grip. It had been three years. It still felt like three days, sometimes. But extraction ratios and brew temps, customer names and punch lines were your life, now.

And you were okay with that.

Dave was never scheduled for morning shifts - his gigs were picking up in frequency (which, of course, you were glad for - you definitely didn't mind too much that it meant you rarely saw each other at work, of course not!) and he was usually out until at least three in the morning. You couldn't count how many times Jade had complained to you about that fact, much to your dismay. Two hours of sleep before an opening shift would have been murder, so he was rarely scheduled before one in the afternoon. So, when his glasses glinted as he shuffled through the door two hours later, at eight thirty, you couldn't help gaping.

"Is this the famous Dave Strider, out of his cocoon of blankets and shame before ten in the morning? Is this actually happening, or am I hallucinating? Dreaming? Did I even open this morning, or am I still accidentally in bed? Am I going to be fired?!" You called to him, almost forgetting to stop your currently extracting shot in the process.

"Be assured you are decidedly awake," Kanaya practically hissed as she shut the register drawer with her hip and turned to pour a cup of tea. "Good morning, Dave, it's very nice to see you alive on your day off. Is that your brother behind you?" She passed off the tea and delicately slipped a croissant into a bag with a practiced motion, handing it across the counter while still peering towards the doorway. It was both Striders, you noted, though the way the sun angled through the doorway did make it a little harder to make out Bro's form. He was backlit, and because he was so tall it turned his shape into a looming black shadow, simultaneously allowing Dave to be seen by the light of the cafe. You chuckled a little to yourself - it was quite cinematic, really. Typical.

"Sup," was all Dave really managed, as the customer before him finished paying and he finally reached the register. Bro, stoic and solid, stood still and quite quiet behind him. You didn't think you'd ever seen him in the cafe, now that you thought about it. Not that you noticed, or cared. "One of those cute little americano's you make, John, like a motherfucking rabbit cause I got my DMV appointment like pronto and that shit waits for no man, no man indeed. Hey Kanaya." You snorted a bit of a laugh. When Dave was on the other side of the counter, he had a tendency to talk over people towards you, especially if you were on bar and someone else had register duties. It was rude, totally rude, and yet somehow by tacking on a greeting as an afterthought he managed to disarm the entire scenario. He had skills, you had to give him that. You were best friends for a reason. You finished pouring a slightly wonky rosetta and turned to prep a few ounces of hot water for a very special cute little americano. Kanaya had already started with the next customer, after pointedly rolling her eyes and waving Dave on without asking for payment.

"Anything for you, Bro?" You asked, offhandedly, as you watched Dave's shot extract smoothly. "On the house, haha, for bailing Dave out and braving the DMV with him!" You flashed your biggest grin, passing Dave his cup and waiting expectantly for the gratitude and appreciation that would surely be doled out towards you for such a generous offering. The least expensive drink on your menu was four dollars, after all. If possible, your grin got brighter. The man in the cap and angled shades grunted.

"I don't drink this fancy shit." You blinked, still grinning, though you could practically feel the brightness of the gesture dimming as you stared. 

"Bro prefers to drink gas station coffee, it's like he thinks it's only good if he has to prove his prowess and struggle through drinking it. Like those crazy assholes who are super into eating weird food. Some sort of perverted sexual stuff right there, you know I'm right. Anyway thanks, dude, gonna go show these motor vehicle overlords my creds and bring dear Annie back from pasture, where she has been improperly restrained. Expired registration my ass." He had practically already gone before he'd finished talking and you found yourself still standing there grinning like an idiot, portafilter hanging loosely in your hand with the shot of espresso you'd never serve Bro Strider. Finally, you managed to frown and shake the tension from your shoulders. A double whammy of Striderdom tended to be this way - here and gone in a flash, and generally leaving you feeling like you'd just been in the middle of a tornado. It was much easier to spend time with Dave when it was clearly designated Hangout Time. You caught yourself staring after them, even as you started on the next drink ticket. Absently, you watched as Bro paused by the window, turning to look in at you before rolling his shoulders and heading after his little brother. It had been a little bit of a shock, that all of their guardians had been whole and sound on their newly minted world. They had no memories of the session, but the memories they did have were relatively close to what they should have been, despite the small gap. Dad had gone on about your highschool years as if they had happened over dinner on numerous evenings before you'd moved to California, and even had transcripts and test scores to send away had you decided to apply to colleges. More stuff you didn't really want to think about. Sometimes you wondered if even Jade had all the answers.

"Iced latte," you called, sliding the drink across the pass. 

"Is that my cappuccino?" Asked the customer who'd been looming by the sugar packets, pointing at the latte even as its owner made their way towards it. You sighed a mighty sigh.


	2. Crunch.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then he came in the very next day. Bro Strider: the biggest secret dork chiseled out of marble there ever was. You'd be nuts to take a crack.
> 
> You're feeling zany.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh building characterization how do I.
> 
> A few short bits before things get a'movin!

You _liked_ opening. Even when it was a few days in a row, as was scheduled this week. You especially liked the first hour spent alone. When the second shift came on, when the rush was over and you had time to think and feel hungry and tired, things could get a little stressful. Especially if the second shift was being worked by-

"Karkat, calm down buddy! It's cool, he's outta here," you practically cried, waving your hands in front of the boy's face. Despite having hazel eyes, now, as a human, they almost glowed orange with rage.

"OH GOOD FOR ME, I'M TOO COOL TO LIKE SOMETHING DELICIOUS AND POPULAR, I'D MUCH RATHER WAIT THIRTY SECONDS TO PUMP ABSOLUTE PIGSHIT INTO MY THROAT AND VEINS AND DIGESTIVE TRACT THAN THREE MINUTES FOR THE EXPERIENCE OF A FUCKING LIFETIME," he was shouting, still, "HAVE FUN AT STARFUCKS." He slammed the porcelain cup against the counter, espresso attempting a leap for its life before swirling back into the cup. With a flick of a wrist, he finished the pour, and smacked the expensive drinkware onto it's saucer. "Here's your latte, fuckass." This, now, to the customer who'd been waiting long before your frustrating encounter with a suit-and-tie type who didn't realize good coffee took time. It happened every now and then. Thankfully, it didn't often happen when Karkat was working bar.

"Th-thank you so much," said the owner of the latte, looking reverently at the dark, disheveled boy who'd served him. You pulled a small frown.

"Sorry about that," you tried, shrugging a shoulder at your coworker. The customer made a small, appreciative noise in his throat as he sipped his drink, indulging before he could even make his way to his seat. This was generally how things went. Karkat was insufferably rude to everyone, and they treated him like his shit was gold - the drinks he fired off were just that good. It was uncanny. He could have said - and often did say - anything he wanted and wouldn't lose a single regular. You sighed, letting it go and finding your usual smile make its way back onto your face. It was one, and you were in the golden hour - just a few side projects and cleaning tasks and you could go home, and you had a lot of writing you wanted to get done. If you didn't nap first. Ah, dilemma. 

You turned back towards the register (because, though you preferred working bar, if Karkat was working that was where he went - no matter what) and lifted your head to greet your next customer.

Bro Strider.

Huh. Weird!

"Oh, hi Bro! Uh, Dave isn't working today," you said, idly switching between the pastries and bulk merchandise screen of your POS for lack of anything else to do with your hands. You peered at him over the screen. 

"Ain't lookin' for Dave," he told you, folding his arms across his chest. He didn't seem to have anything to add to that statement, and you couldn't help but nervously glance away from him. His presence was at once calming and intimidating - you couldn't even have described how such a thing was possible, but there it was. Before you'd met Dave's infamous Bro, you'd always kind of assumed he'd be lithe and quick the way Dave was, mouthy and ADD and rude. Now you realized Dave looked up to him mostly because they were very different. Bro's proverbial aura was powerful and, from what you'd heard, he was just as quick as Dave - but it was a confident, easy strength. He didn't need to be overly verbose and spilling energy everywhere to get that point across. Too cool, you thought to yourself. It wasn't fair.

"Oh, sure, okay." You said bringing your eyes back towards the larger man once you admitted to yourself that no more customers were going to come through the door and help you expedite the process. Karkat was glued to the espresso machine, fiddling with the temperature gauge underneath it. On your own, then. You sucked in a breath through your nose and straightened your shoulders. "Can I get you something?"

"Y'all have regular coffee here?" At his words, you couldn't help the small smile tugging the corners of your mouth. It was a question you got every now and then - 'regular coffee' was apparently a hot commodity, and heaven forbid such a fancy cafe serve it. Just because you did something well didn't mean you couldn't do simple things exceptionally. Your smile was verging on a maniacal grin, now, as you felt a familiar tug in your belly - ah, yes. The tugging call of the prankster.

"Oh, no, not _here_. We don't advocate the consumption of such a respected trade good in _anything_ but it's original and pure form. 'Regular coffee' should only be enjoyed in its natural state, as simply roasted as possible. I can give you a small serving - twelve beans for only twelve dollars, and that's _with_ my employee discount." You doled out a large wink to sweeten the deal. Expecting anything from a scoff to a mirthful shove at your simple jest, you stood back and waited.

Either Bro was immune to knavery, or he was playing you for the fool. 

"That sounds fine then," he very nearly drawled, tucking twelve dollars securely into the top of your apron. You tried not to gape, and that was a very hard endeavor indeed. A moment to clench your jaw, and then you hardened your resolve. A chuckle made its way into your nose, but you withheld it, carefully counting out twelve coffee beans into an elegant demitasse. You placed it on a saucer, with a small silver spoon underneath the handle - the cafe's logo and spoon pointing towards its intended customer.

"Enjoy," you remarked, sweetly, as you placed the offering down with a flourish. Wordlessly, Bro dropped a tip into your jar and sat himself at the seating that lined the bar. It was a favorite spot for regular customers, as it made up an entire side of your counter space and allowed the occupant to watch and chat with the baristas as they worked. There were three seats there, but Bro sat right in the middle. You shook your head a little, and took out your checklist to get started on cleaning. 

_Crunch_. The noise almost made you jump out of your skin, spilling the tea leaves you were refilling onto the wax paper you'd spread on the floor. Eyes wide, you looked up from underneath the counter space - the same counter space where Bro was sitting. Poker faced, he was chewing, and even though his shades were secured on his face you could feel his stare boring down into you. You smiled. What else was there to do? _Crunch_. He'd popped another bean into his mouth, and chewed slowly, the sensation of his stare never leaving you. Alarmingly, you felt a shiver run down your spine, a sinking feeling in your stomach - he'd won this round, fair and square. You decided you'd have to step up if you were going to play games with Bro Strider.

The idea wasn't repellant.

"Are you shitheads done flirting?" Karkat's voice slammed into you from the other side of the counter, where he was (surprisingly gently) dusting retail cups. "Kanaya's here and I want to split tips and fuck off before she gets weird ideas about pooling." 

"Gross, Karkat!" Was your response, though the instinct to launch yourself across the counter was visceral and more intense than made complete sense to you. Karkat was just being ornery, and generally always knew how to find and speak the one thing that would be most repulsive or embarrassing in any situation. (Though the fact that he would hone in on the idea of you flirting with Bro being embarrassing to your sensibilities was, suffice to say, both baffling and more than you wanted to think about. Not everyone was a pansexual aromantic like Sir Vantas). You straightened up, all creaky knees from kneeling too long, not really knowing what else to say about that and not wanting to draw too much attention to how red your ears had become.

 _Crunch_. You counted out and split the jar of tips while Kanaya hung up her spring jacket and tied on an apron. She looked tired. And you were definitely focusing on that because you could still feel eyes on the back of your head. Another crunch. You sighed, and then felt a small smile spreading across your lips. You turned, scrunching your face a little at the man watching you.

"You're really not gonna let that go, huh," you asked him, as you flicked the handle of his spoon upwards and caught it in one motion before plunging it into his cup of whole beans. With a slow, deliberate smile, Bro selected one bean from the remaining batch and popped it into his mouth. 

"Sure that checklist ain't gonna finish itself, kid," he told you, still grinning from ear to ear even with a coffee bean in his cheek. You couldn't decide whether to groan or laugh as you left the counter to wipe out the fridges. Somehow, literally all of your friends were beyond weird.


	3. Oh, bother.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have some plot development. :D

You had left work in a rather good mood, but the longer you found yourself stuck in traffic, the more you felt your mind turning. Dave, you were sure, had already been through exactly the train of thought you were now on ages ago. In a small way, you felt bad about it having taken you so long. After all, you were much in the same position as he - the reappearance of your father in your life after so long trying not to believe he was dead had been a struggle. But your Dad was back in Washington, and though you called and texted with him frequently, you weren't faced with him every day. And you hadn't been there, in your session, and found him with a sword through his chest. Guiltily, you wished you had been a bit more present for Dave when he'd met up with his Bro three years ago. It wasn't Dave's way, necessarily, to vent about his feelings, but at least you could have been sympathetic. Bro had moved to Los Angeles when Dave had, despite the pair not living together anymore. You were sure they saw each other every day, and you wondered what had gone through your friend's head confronted with a loved one reborn. Or newly bloomed into existance by some of Jade's weird space magic. Or, you swallowed the thought, truly real at all. With Dad it had been relatively easy. You'd spent so long hoping he was still okay, that waking up in your old room to the smell of him baking had been more comforting than terrifying. Dave's first strife with Bro, you imagined, couldn't have been nearly that smooth a transition.

You frowned at your steering wheel, sliding into a parking spot with a perfect three point turn.

Normally, your head was filled with punchlines after a solid day of people watching at work. They ran on repeat until you could speed up the stairs, unlock the door to your apartment and get to yout laptop. Today, you decided the best course of action would be to take a hard nap. You slugged up the steps and flopped face first onto your bed with a grunt, only pausing at the door to take off your shoes (they were almost always covered in coffee dust and croissant flakes, and you didn't like tracking that into the apartment. There was enough of it in your life already). With half a groan, you rolled over onto your back and flung an arm over your eyes, debating the merit of actually getting undressed and into the sheets. It would require effort, which you definitely didn't feel like expending. Alas, there wasn't a lot of time to make a decision on either option.

"Yay, you're home!" With a 'piff' of mattress and comforter, you felt your body roll sideways with the weight of an additional body on the edge of the bed. You lifted your arm off your face - you supposed it was making your glasses dig into the bridge of your nose and you would have had to move it eventually anyway. Jade's unannounced arrival into your room had just expedited the process.

"I sure am," you told her, taking your glasses off briefly to rub at your eyes before sitting up. "At least I hope I am, otherwise I have fallen asleep in my car and driven off the highway to my death. Oops! What's up, Jade?"

She smiled at you, but there was a small line of worry between her brows. It wasn't unusual for her to be a little stressed, but she usually brushed it off and delved into her next project or problem without being phased. If she was truly worried, you could generally imagine why - it would have something to do with one of your friends.

"I'm worried about Rose," she declared, confirming your suspicions. You straightened, raising an eyebrow. Anyone else you could have imagined, but Rose was practically unflappable. She was a rock in the middle of your tumultuous ocean of friends, and you'd never been more grateful about that until recently. She brought a stable serenity to the cafe that it desperately needed - Kanaya was a big help in that respect, too, but she felt a little more unreachable to you than Rose did. At least Rose goofed off with you more often. Maybe that was the deciding factor. Your eyebrow raise was apparently enough of a questing expression, because Jade barely hesitated before continuing.

"She's cancelled plans with me like three times this week, and I'm so confused because she never does things like that, and all of her excuses have just been absolutely terrible. Not like her at all! And I don't understand where it's coming from, because nothing weird has happened and we aren't fighting, and her and Kanaya aren't fighting either so it's definitely not that either. She said she couldn't come over yesterday because she had to clip her cat's toenails and apparently that was enough of an endeavor that it would take her all night! It's so weird, John! I think something else is going on and I'm just really bothered that she feels like she can't talk to me." Her voice got a bit softer, and she frowned, picking at the skin by her thumbnail. You frowned too - it was hard to see Jade upset, especially because you knew she valued her friends over almost everything else. To be at odds with one was like taking her sunlight away. And when Jade was upset, it was hard not to be upset right back.

"Kanaya has seemed fairly tired the past few days," you told her, gently. "Maybe they are fighting, and don't want to bother us with it?" You tried a little bit of a smile. "I mean, Rose is technically dating her boss. It 'Wouldn't Do' to gossip amongst the staff." The quip didn't seem to work, as Jade looked a little more closely at her hands and sucked her lower lip into her mouth. You leaned over to nudge her shoulder. "I'm sure it's fine. We've been friends for seven years, if it was anything major, we'd know." Jade sighed, and smiled weakly at you.

"I'm sure you're right. Thanks, I knew I could talk to you about this! I'll let you know if anything changes, okay?"

"Okay. Now get out cause I needs to gets me back to my sleeps." You grinned, giving her series of small shoves until, giggling a little in her own way, Jade made her way out of your room and into the hall. You fell back onto your pillows with a happy oomph, but didn't find yourself plunged into naptime as soon as you would have liked. Resigned, you picked up your phone.

\--ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 15:12--

EB: hey rose.  
EB: so listen, i was chatting with jade and she's real bummed about not seeing you lately.  
EB: i told her it was nothing but now i can't nap in good conscience until i check.  
EB: you doing ok?  
EB: rose?

You stared at your phone for a moment before clicking the screen off. Huh. Maybe there was merit to Jade's worry. Usually it didn't take Rose more than a moment to respond, unless she was at work. She definitely wasn't. Feeling like making one last ditch effort, you pulled the screen back up.

EB: okay well........ just let me know when you get this and that you're okay!  
TT: Hi, John. Sorry about that. I was occupied.  
EB: oh, there you are! what's occupying you?  
TT: It's nothing. The heating element in the espresso machine was off and Kanaya called me in to check on it. It's fine now, the switch had just been hit while Karkat was cleaning it before he left.  
EB: man he's gotta stop doing that.  
TT: At least he cleans it.  
EB: :p  
EB: wait, can't kanaya handle that kind of thing on her own? you don't exactly live close to the shop.  
EB: wait again, are you guys canoodling in the cafe?? ew are you like fooling around in her office? gross, rose!  
TT: Please. My hormones are not so out of control that I can't keep a handle on them until we're alone. She didn't think to check the switch, that's all, and I was in the area. Why the conspiracy theories?  
EB: i'm sorry :( like i said earlier, jade is super worried that you keep cancelling stuff. probably don't tell her i told you.  
TT: I appreciate both of your concern. Everything is fine.   
TT: I do admit to feeling a bit guilty about Jade's feelings. I will get in touch with her a bit later. Thank you for coming to me, John.  
EB: haha, you know me, always there to auscipicieise or whatever it is!  
TT: I'm not sure that's right, but appreciated nonetheless. I'll see you tomorrow.

\--tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 15:56--

 

In the basement storage room of the cafe, Rose clicked her phone off, slipping it into a pocket. She reached with her right hand to wipe a fleck of blood from her cheek, quickly realizing that it was fruitless - her hands were just as coated as the rest of her, and would only make the mess worse. She sighed, resigned.

"If you keep watch until we close, I may be able to sneak you a spare shirt," Kanaya offered, helpfully, wiping a rag down her arm to catch the small smear she'd gotten on herself.

"I can keep watch the rest of the night," Rose replied, a bit grim. "You've been wearing yourself out." With an appreciative grimace, Kanaya nodded and headed back up the stairs to the cafe proper. Had you been there, you might have spotted the small glitchy spot in the basement floor, next to where the paper cups were stored. You might have noticed the bundle of wet, dark shapes laying prone in the corner (though Rose has already helpfully thrown an empy cardboard box over most of the mess). But you had fallen asleep not long after putting your phone under your pillow, satisfied that all was perfectly alright with your friends.


	4. Over the Counter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jade, Rose, Karkat, Dave, Kanaya, even Terezi away at law school; none of them, really, could give you what you needed. Or what your heart was telling you that you needed. Maybe it was selfish - actually, it probably was, but you'd never claimed to be a selfless person. Someone who craved your company of their own volition, not because you were all they had. Someone who asked you weird questions at uncomfortable moments and made you have to think twice about your answer. Someone who made you rethink things you thought you'd already decided. That's what you wanted.
> 
> Crap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooo sorry for the delay! I moved a whole four miles west, but I'm up and running now. Thanks for the kudos, folks! Hope you're ready to get into the meat of the story :D
> 
> -Ender

"What's Alternia?" Your head practically snapped up from under the espresso machine, your skull narrowly missing the handle of a portafilter on it's way up. You twisted almost violently to where Bro Strider was sitting, again, at the bar. He was staring at you speculatively from behind his shades. 

"What!?" You very nearly squeaked, eyes wide.

"I said, what's Altura?" He repeated, lifting his mug of a Gesha varietal from Ethiopia ($7.50 for a pour-over, which took about four minutes to make and he'd taken all of three sips of) and turning it so your own cafe's swirled logo was facing you, 'Altura Cafe' emblazoned along the edges of it. You admittedly let out a strangled breath.

"It's a specific Mexican coffee grown at a high altitude," you explained, voice a little shaky. "Sorry, I thought you were asking something very different! Haha." You resumed dusting under the machine with a vigor unparalleled. 

"You gonna tell me what about you thought I was asking?"

"Uh," you replied, from under the machine. It was warm down there, and safe and it didn't ask questions or drawl in that nonchalant Strider way at you. "Just the... name of an old girlfriend!" You almost said 'from college' until you remembered that you'd never gone to college, and therefore that wasn't a great option for a cover. Plus, despite feeling like you'd been through fifty years of life experience, being nineteen wasn't exactly a great age to begin publicly reminiscing about years past. You stuck with what you'd said and zipped your lips against furthering the foot you'd haphazardly inserted into your mouth. This was a frequent occurrence lately. It was frustrating, sometimes. More than sometimes. Mostly because you tended to avoid interacting with anyone who wasn't within your small circle of 'friends from before', and that didn't include Bro Strider. You'd grown close to a handful of customers, sure. There were ones you knew by name, ones who's jobs you were familiar with, ones who's woes you'd attended to on multiple occasions (though you weren't the best of everyone to go to for advice - that had always been Jade in a weird way, and she didn't work at the shop. Your customers had gotten used to the fact that you were sometimes a dick without realizing it and that Rose was too sarcastic to be of any real help, with Kanaya being generally unapproachable unless you were particularly close to her - in which case her advice was invaluable. It was a weird little world. No one asked Karkat for anything). But people outside your bubble asked questions that sometimes you didn't have the answer to, and so you'd grown adept at steering conversations and dodging around tricky situations. Bro had a bad habit of making that harder for you. There was an added aspect of complication, you found, in the regard that there were moments where you really, truly wanted to spill your guts to him. You didn't know where it came from, and as soon as the feeling struck you tended to mentally run screaming 'lalala' and covering your proverbial psyche-ears until it went away. You couldn't afford to feel weird stuff like that, and so you wouldn't. But there was a way he looked at you over his shades sometimes, sitting there at the bar like he did every damn day now, that was disarming. There was more to him than he showed in the relatively douchey way he dressed and held himself, that was for sure, and it was weird. Frustrating weird. Like if you did end up telling him your life story, he wouldn't judge you. That he'd accept it. Or even have the power to help you get over it - you knew this was all conjecture and just some sort of gross hopefulness your mind was projecting onto Bro because he was the first 'real world' person to start pushing at your walls, but the feeling was there and you couldn't shake it.

Though honestly, maybe you didn't want to.

That was an uncomfortable thought, you realized, flicking a bit of dust off of the leg of the espresso machine. You withdrew your head, throwing a surreptitious glance towards Bro. He'd been coming in every day since Dave's DMV appointment, blandly stating it was on the way to the post office. From Dave, you knew he ran his own business, which involved a lot of shipping of product. It wasn't a bad excuse, but you knew for sure he'd never had more than a few sips of the most expensive and laboriously made coffee he could have ordered, and that despite the fact he still lingered for upwards towards three hours at a time. Lately, he'd even been sticking around while you closed. You'd have said something to him about it, except that - with a bit of an uncomfortable twist in your stomach - you realized you didn't mind. The company was nice, even if he teased endlessly and it was sometimes hard to keep up with his wit. The more you thought about it, the more pathetic you felt. The once named 'Heir of Breath', slayer of many an imp and carapace, twister of fate, longing after a friend outside the circle of people he'd grown to trust with his very life. For what? A change of pace? Gross. Everyone else was perfectly happy with the bonds they'd already formed, not risking an upset of the very balance they'd worked so hard to maintain. Leave it to John Egbert to mess everything up because he's lonely. Ah, there it was.

You weren't the sulky type. You'd gotten over that period of your life relatively swiftly, and thankfully. So, naturally, as soon as the word brushed against your mind with a twinge of squeezing longing in your chest, you dismissed it. No, you didn't get to be lonely. You had plenty of ties to plenty of people who were plenty different kinds of amazing. Even Karkat was wonderful, in his ball of grumpy disheveled yarn kind of way. You wouldn't trade what you had for the world. Especially for something like a friendship with an older man, who probably thought he was wiser than you. He wasn't. Wisdom came with experience, and even 30some-odd years of real life experience couldn't hold a candle to what you'd gone through.

What you needed to do was get down to the bottom of what you really wanted. A small part of your mind pushed you to talk to Jade about it, or even Rose. Both, in very different ways, were good at helping you untangle your jungle of thoughts to get to the stem of whatever-it-was. Another larger part told you that your very feelings were a betrayal, and to keep them to yourself was your best bet. That decision, and the small rush of spiky pain that came with it, brought you close to your answer - you didn't really want to talk to any of them. Jade, Rose, Karkat, Dave, Kanaya, even Terezi away at law school; none of them, really, could give you what you needed. Or what your heart was telling you that you needed. Maybe it was selfish - actually, it probably was, but you'd never claimed to be a selfless person. Someone who craved your company of their own volition, not because you were all they had. Someone who asked you weird questions at uncomfortable moments and made you have to think twice about your answer. Someone who made you rethink things you thought you'd already decided. That's what you wanted.

Crap.

Maybe it wasn't about Bro Strider, really, when it came down to it. It was hard to trick yourself into thinking he was hanging around the shop for any reason other than for the fun of teasing you, or that it was a change of environment for someone who worked from home. He certainly didn't seem like the type to even have friends, and especially not to seek them out - or find them in his little brother's buddy-slash-coworker. Though that thought certainly stung, for all that it 'wasn't about Bro Strider'. You found yourself flattening your mouth into a line, you hands shoving themselves protectively into the front of your grey, coffee-dusted denim apron as you looked at him. It was probably just that he'd been the first person you'd been able to entertain the idea of becoming closer to.

"What, am I bringin' up a sore subject or?" You realized barely a moment had passed, but as your mind had fired in all directions, you couldn't remember what you'd even been talking about. Quickly, you performed a mental backtrack. Right, girlfriends. You'd heard the best lies were rooted in truth, so that stretching it wouldn't become too tangled of a process. Too bad you didn't have a lot of experience in that regard.

"Huh? Oh, no, not really." You shrugged. Was that vague enough? Sure. Did Bro look like he was satisfied? No. Blast. "Sir, I am a professional, I don't have time to pine after my one lost love. Besides I was like sixteen and she was nuts in the worst way." And a murderous mind controlling alien. You frowned.

"Shit kid," Bro leaned back in his seat, raising an eyebrow. "You ain't been laid since you were _sixteen_? You're exaggerating, I hope." So much for lies rooted in truth, you thought, as heat crept up the back of your neck. Of course, any normal human male at your age would have been through a slew of girlfriends, if saving the world/creating a new one/floundering awkwardly in an alternate dimension hadn't taken up nearly a half of your life. 

"No, I mean, yeah of course I have, loads of times. I said lost _love_ , none of those other broads mattered." Did you say 'broads', really? Ugh ughguhgh. You flapped a hand at the man nonchalantly, though the expression on his face had turned towards sinister mirth and not appeased understanding, and you knew you were in for it.

"Fuck, you totally haven't." His grin was growing wider.

"Ew we are not having this conversation, and I do not have to get into the details of my sexual exploits with you!" Good cover, Egbert. "Plus, I'm at work, this is harassment or something."

"Could always continue this after work, if you're so damn embarrassed."

You paused, blinking at him. He was still grinning a little, leaned back in his seat with an arm flung out over the back of the empty one beside him. Your gaze flicked toward the rest of the cafe - empty, as it was nearly five minutes until close and your pre-close cleaning tended to scare most the lingering crowd away (you had a bad habit of vacuuming one of the grinders out early, and that shit was loud). It would take you another half an hour to finish cleaning up, and after that you'd planned nothing beyond the inevitable and odd 7:45PM Los Angeles traffic on the way home. Not that you wanted to 'continue' this conversation! You folded your arms protectively across your chest.

"What, are you asking me on a date, Mr. Strider?" You sneered a little, resisting the urge to follow your quip by sticking your tongue out. You didn't think that would win you any points.

"Hm, you really are desperate, aintcha, going after an old man and a customer? What does Dave call it? Going 'over the counter'?"

"You only wish I swung that way, 'old man', but if you wanna hang around and grab a beer at Finn's after I'm off, I'm down." The proposition had popped out before you had even really thought about it, and a slew of regrets instantly followed. First, that now you'd probably have to make up a bunch of stuff about your fake life in order to have any sort of conversation beyond the usual banter you engaged in while working. Second, that you'd just confirmed the fact that you were willing to jeopardize the life Jade had set up for you just to pursue friendship with someone outside your session, when the friendships you already had should have been more than enough. Third, and your stomach squirmed a little bit at this, that you'd be really let down if he changed his mind and said no.

"A little young to be drinking, hm, Egbert?" Was his uncommitted response, with another raise of his eyebrow. Frustrating. It was always about age, and that was never the first thing on your mind. 

"They know me there," you replied, casually shrugging a shoulder. "Main Street community and all that." You couldn't help yourself from adding, "And I'm older than my years, Strider, so quit it with that." 

"That so?" Maybe you were imagining it, but you felt like his light tone had a hint of seriousness to it. Which, until this point, was rare. "I'll believe you when I see it. Proof's in the pudding." You pursed your lips. Bro Strider did seem like the kind of person who didn't believe in something until there was solid, tangible evidence of it. You couldn't begrudge that, despite having becoming the opposite kind of person over the course of your life. Some things were weird and shouldn't be true, but were. Still. It was almost admirable to be so stubborn. Your expression eased into a half smile. There wasn't time to be anxious about spending time with Bro after work. You'd committed. Once you committed to something, you didn't back down. It just wasn't your way. You'd figure it out as you went along - that was always much easier than trying to analyze your feelings in your downtime. Maybe this was the best solution, after all. Your half smile lifted into a full one.

"Finn's it is, then!"


	5. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In your mind, you breathed something that you couldn't even make out against his skin, warm on your lips. Hot, even, and you could almost feel its heat even through his shirt, where your hand now found itself on his ribs - his stomach - his hip. You realized, distantly, that the only real heat you felt was rushing into your face, your heart thudding in your ears and your throat while the timer of the machine beeped for you to switch the water off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut!

It become a new routine. On the days you closed, you sometimes stayed with him at Finn's until the ungodly hours of the morning (which, to you, occurred between 12 and 1AM and were certainly not what Bro considered late, about which he teased you endlessly). When you opened, it was Amelia's for lunch and sometimes even a walk down to the Venice boardwalk to people watch and laugh about nonsense or complain about tourists. In a way, it was idyllic, and if you thought too long about it, strange. Your life had taken on a bit of normalcy that you didn't realize you were missing. Dave still raised an eyebrow at you when you mentioned your new found friendship, but his respect for his brother was real and he didn't begrudge you your unlikely friendship with him - even if he had felt a little left out until you'd learned how to juggle your time a bit better. You'd invited him to the too few and far between standup gigs you'd landed, but he hadn't come to one yet that you knew of. For some reason, that made you a little sad. You'd asked why once, and he gruffly mumbled something about not liking crowds, and that it was different being out of the house when he was actually with someone - that it would be weird if it was just him. You couldn't quite understand that, but you'd grown to realize there was a lot more to Bro than he would tell you. Like his first name, despite your insistence. Or a whole lot about his past. You'd gleaned this: he had raised himself, flitting from one foster home to another and getting into far too much trouble than he'd get into details about. Dave had come into his life when he was just sixteen, which secured his age at thirty-five, though he felt older. You could relate to that, and you'd told him as much. He'd raised an eyebrow at you for at, but for once didn't press as to why. That he'd raised Dave had been a nice chunk of irony - he was now part of the system that had treated him poorly since birth, in the very role of guardian that he'd rebelled against his whole life, and was reveling in it. Succeeding. He didn't like to talk about what it had been like to raise Dave (it would have been weird anyway), but the pride he felt was self evident. It probably had something to do with why he went by Bro, as that was more of his identity than whatever name had been given to him by the hospital that had taken him in as an infant, the name he'd used in his ramshackle life pre-Dave. He was an entrepreneur, of what you weren't sure, and it had made him wealthy. Despite this, he still lived below his means, and had no intention of changing that. Every now and then he spent money on something that was deemed worth it. You'd never been to his place, but it was in Santa Monica near the cafe and it was apparently up very high, so you could only imagine he deemed it worth the price. Dave alluded that he was in the business of sex, which you could imagine was lucrative enough to afford him a loft in Santa Monica, and surprisingly didn't bother you as much as you thought it should. 

You'd told him a few things about growing up outside Seattle, about your relationship with your father, and why comedy and the service industry were both important to you. Mostly, he asked questions about what made you tick rather than your past, for which you were grateful. You found you didn't have to make up nearly as much as you originally thought you would have. He was most interested in your drive to make others smile, to be a part of their day or their life in a way that mattered. Slyly, he had told you his business was much the same, though that had been the end of that side of the conversation. You were insanely curious about his life - you couldn't help it. It was your nature to be curious. Regardless, it didn't bother you that he was slightly closed off. You felt like you'd gotten more out of him than anyone else would have, and for some reason you were intensely proud of this fact. A small part of you figured that, eventually, he'd open to you more. So you didn't pry. That was strange for you, as well. You were kind of the prying type, really, to a fault. But with Bro, you knew you'd rather wait for him to come to you rather than risk pushing him away by being too nosy. Weird. Usually you weren't that perceptive. Or maybe you just couldn't believe your luck in winning his friendship, and didn't want to jeopardize it. Potentially that would wear off soon, and you'd do something stupid to mess it all up. There was still time, after all.

He still flirted endlessly with you, too, which would have been weird - should have been weird, maybe - but wasn't. He'd told you little about his love life, but you did know he was gay, and despite that fact his flirting didn't feel threatening. You'd told him endlessly that you were into girls and he was barking up the wrong tree, but that hadn't stopped him. In a way, it had just become another aspect of your friendship. You even caught yourself flirting back. Which was harmless, of course! Your intentions were clear, and flirting didn't have to be romantic or even sexual. That's what Jade had said, when you first uncomfortably mentioned it in front of her. Since then, it had become easier, and even something you looked forward to a little. Though you'd never admit that to anyone. Or even yourself, really, though it had brushed against the edges of your mind sometimes. There was a different kind of grin you could illicit from him with the right kind of flirting, and you craved it. You craved a lot of things from him, actually. The hints of his life he did mention were a tease, and you wanted more. You wanted him to trust you, to be able to turn to you, to rely on you. It had taken a little time, but you'd realized you wanted those things from him because that's what you wanted him to be for you. And that had shaken you a little, until you'd found your feet and accepted it. It hurt, sure, to know you could never really open to him the way you wanted to. So you tried not to think about it, and instead enjoyed your friendship for what it was. You were lucky in that you were able to enjoy someone's company who didn't constantly remind you of the nightmare you'd lived through. You were building a new life, almost. Bro had become an important foundation.

Weird.

"And then she tripped right over the dog, flung out her hands and did a fucking handspring. She landed flat on her feet and just kinda skipped into her room without even _looking_ at me. That's when I realized Jade was invincible and completely immune to pranks, man, it was such a weird day," you laughed, leaning an elbow against the counter as you faced Bro, sitting in his usual spot at the counter with his untouched coffee.

"Sometimes you gotta know when to give in, brat. Glad she could teach you that lesson. Kinda feel like I might need to give you a refresher though, honest." Whatever _that_ meant. He slid his shades back up the bride of his angular nose with one finger and you finally gave in to your impulse to stick your tongue out at him. 

"Machine needs to be backflushed still, John," Kanaya butted in pointedly, lifting her eyes towards you from her checklist. You couldn't help blushing a little, despite fighting against it as hard as you could.

"Sorry boss," you replied, with good humor and a sheepish smile. She let you get away with too much, really, when you thought about it. And she'd been working extra hard lately, you could tell. The bags under her eyes had grown darker and more lined over the past month or so, and according to Jade it had nothing to do with her relationship. You could only assume it was the stress of running a business. You quickly began to wipe out the portafilters, gave them a rinse and another quick wipe before attaching the ones with no perforations to force the machine to cycle clean water through the groupheads. This particularly cleaning routine was one you did several times a day, between rushes, so you could practically do it with your eyes closed. Or with you eyes sidling over towards where Bro was sitting, his attention for once turned towards the windows rather than at you.

You took a moment to watch him.

There wasn't a whole lot of downtime in your conversations - you friendship had its share of comfortable silences, but not nearly as many as most, you figured. So you used the time to watch. It wasn't _weird_ , really. You liked people watching. You felt as though you were fairly good at getting a read from people's actions when they didn't think anyone was looking - part of being in entertainment and all that, so taking an opportunity to do so with someone you called friend shouldn't have been weird or out of the norm. Besides, the light in the cafe was always really beautiful, and right now - just before noon - it had a soft orange glow that bounced off the blue and white walls of the cafe in a pretty stunning way.

It lit him nicely, too.

There weren't a lot of times Bro was relaxed, you realized. He always held himself a little tensely, as if he didn't trust that the world was entirely safe. Even now, as he leaned back per usual with an arm flung nonchalantly across an empty seat, you could see tension in his muscles. You let your eyes trail up his arm, the tendons in his wrist showing all the way to the crook of his elbow, the soft light defining the tone of his bicep. He still wore his shirts too tight, and the fabric strained against his shoulder, pulled tight as it stretched across his chest - also tense, despite the calm rise and fall of his breathing. You felt a little warm - probably the sunlight hitting the back of your neck where your blue plaid button down didn't cover it, the neck of your apron suddenly feeling restrictive under your collar. But you paid it no heed as you glanced at the sharp angle of Bro's jawline, the muscles just under his ears tensing and loosening as he looked left towards something outside you didn't bother to look towards. You were occupied, suddenly, with the image of yourself laying a hand lightly on that tense muscle, trailing down his jawline to his neck. The vision was abrupt and vivid, stopping you in your tracks, the pace of your heart quickening as it continued. You couldn't - or wouldn't - stop it from proceeding, and now you saw yourself running that traitor hand down his neck, brushing against the collar of his shirt to where it finally buttoned far below his collarbone. That collarbone, which with the turning of his head was illuminated with sunlight, which now you saw yourself leaning in to place your lips against. In your mind, you breathed something that you couldn't even make out against his skin, warm on your lips. Hot, even, and you could almost feel its heat even through his shirt, where your hand now found itself on his ribs - his stomach - his hip. You realized, distantly, that the only real heat you felt was rushing into your face, your heart thudding in your ears and your throat while the timer of the machine beeped for you to switch the water off. Meanwhile, your mind proudly played the image of him burying strong hands into your hair, pulling your lips up to meet his, crushing his body against yours as he - oh god. You swallowed a sound in your throat that - had you let it out - would have been a pant or a gasp. You too quickly slammed the handles of the machine off, reattached the proper portafilters and excused yourself to the restroom.

Letting out a ragged breath, you leaned against the closed door, the light off. You'd never been more grateful for your heavy denim apron, because had it not been there, it would have been painfully obvious to anyone looking that you were aroused. Very aroused. Which was, unfortunately, painfully obvious to you. You hung your apron on the door, now leaning your forehead against the cool metal of it. That didn't help. You could still see him with your eyes closed, in rapid glimpses. His grin, his hands touching you, lifting your shirt, sliding down the front of your jeans. You fumbled the button, biting your lip to keep from gasping as your palm brushed against your straining hard-on. You turned to push your shoulderblades into the corner of the room, freeing yourself from your jeans, brow furrowed. Even as you pushed against the wall, you could practically feel _him_ shoving you there, leaning down as he would have had to in order to nip at your neck. The thought of it made you shiver, made the groan in your throat that much harder to hold in when you imagined that it was his hand - not yours - wrapped around your dick. Your free hand came up to your throat, fingers brushing against it as you had pictured yourself doing to him only moments before. Your thumb brushed against your - his, in your mind - jawline, as your other thumb flicked across the tip of your dick, rubbing the wetness that had already beaded heavily there. You bit your lip again, hard this time, and then slammed your free hand over your mouth to keep the moan from escaping anyway. Jeans and boxers pooled around your ankles, you thrust into your own hand again and again, the illusion of _his_ hand now over your mouth. If he was in there with you, he'd be grinning, telling you to shut up. It send another almost painful thrill through your body, and you changed the pace of your hand to match this new scenario. Slowly, languidly would be the way he would do it at first, you decided. Teasing you. You panted into your palm. _Shut up, brat_. It was too much. Half blind, you slid two of your own fingers into your mouth almost greedily, swirling your tongue around them as your hips bucked into your other hand. You imagined his hands, long-fingered and artistic despite the bulk of his muscles, imagined that it was him behind you, grinding against you, pumping your dick with his fingers in your mouth. Whispering in your ear. Wanting you.

You lurched across the room and grabbed a paper towel in just enough time to come into it, hard, your arm wrapped across the top of the dispenser, holding you up as your knees buckled. You swallowed the gasp that wanted to leave your lips as you released, but you couldn't keep his name from escaping.

"Bro," you whispered into the darkness, your head buried in the crook of your arm as you felt your legs tingle with the afterglow of orgasm, felt it swirling around your belly, dizzying your brain.

This was a problem.

You cleaned yourself off more thoroughly, scrubbed your hands, splashed cool water on your face and took a few moments to breathe. The light was still off, and you had no idea how long you'd been in here. Embarrassment, rather than lust started to color your cheeks.

It wasn't a big deal, you told yourself, straightening your clothes and replacing your apron. You stood before the locked bathroom door, not yet moving to open it. Not a big deal. You hadn't been touched in a long time, that was all, and fantasizing about anyone else in your circle of friends would have been weird. ...Weirder. You drew in a breath, and let it out slowly. So you'd been caught off guard. That was it, really. If the fantasy had been particularly homoerotic and sparked, not by a short skirt or feminine pair of lips but the hard, angular muscles of Bro Strider, well... that was just a minor detail.

Right?

You huffed, dismissing the thought for now, and headed back into the cafe. Definitely not going to think about it, especially because the further you ventured down that path, the easier it was to imagine his hands on you again. And that wasn't happening.


End file.
